Left 4 Love
by floppymcfoppybottoms
Summary: Three passionate young men and woman and a Vietnam war veteran longing to see his grand-kids embark on a journey through a dystopic zombie infested wasteland. There is love-making and Canadian wilderness. I can't promise the second thing.


_**Left 4 Love**_

By Floppy McFoppybottoms

_**Quick note: **_Please take this completely seriously. I assure you, I did.

**Chapter 1**

It was dark and the sun had just set over the horizon and the sky was black and there were stars and there were cars and the sounds of zombies and moaning. The four survivors, Zoey, Louis, Bill, Francis, Bill, and they were walking around the unlit city.

"It's times like this that make me miss my family," Bill said.

"I think we all miss our families, Billy-boy," Francis retorted sarcastically, taking a lingual jab at the old war veteran.

"I just wish my grand kids were still alive," Bill continued, unaware of Francis' rude remark.

"Bill, you've been talking about your grandkids for hours now," Zoey said, "Maybe it's time we stop for the night."

Bill stopped and stared at the ground, putting out his last cigarette.

"NIGGA, I WAN' SUM FRIED CHICKEN," Louis said, his howl piercing the air.

Suddenly, the zombies came.

"Francis, you idiot!" Bill yelled, as he began to fire his uzi.

The zombies roared and went toward the survivors and began attempting to tear them apart limb from limb with their bare hands and teeth and fists and legs and.

"Zoey," Bill said, "I need a heal!"

"We're out of health packs!" Zoey yelled.

Bill replied tenderly: "Yes." And so they made sweet love.

Louis and Francis continued firing into the night, Zoey and Bill continued to experiment with their bodies.

"Francis" Louis said, "I need a heal!"

"We're out of health packs!" Francis yelled.

Louis replied tenderly: "Yes." And so they made sweet love.

The now confused zombies watched in horror and the old man, young woman, and two men went at it. Blood, sweat, various other bodily fluids, and the sweet sound of lovemaking penetrated the air. The zombies decided to call it a night, and left the four survivors to themselves.

_…_

Hours later, the lovemaking ceased.

"Works everytime," Bill said, grabbing his trousers and fastening his belt buckle.

"Can't I be the one paired with Zoey next time?" Francis inquired.

The four of them laughed heartily, and continued their quest. It wouldn't be long, then, they decided, before they might reunite with their families and finally be happy. But their families were dead and they remembered that shortly after.

**Chapter 2**

Bill's body lie on the ground, stiff as erect genetalia.

"Bill!" Zoey screamed, atop the still escalating bridge.

"Leave him," Francis said, "he would have wanted it this way."

The three, Louis, Francis, and Zoey, continued across the bridge.

_…_

"DAYUM, I WANNA PLAY SOME FOOTBALL!"

Coach's yelp was drowned out by the hordes of zombies that encircled Nick, Rochelle, some redneck dude, and the boisterous black man himself.

"Coach," Rochelle called out, "Now is not the time!"

"I know. I just miss those boys on the football team..." Coach paused in memoriam.

"God dammit," Nick muttered, "at this time we might have to resort to the sex technique."

"My vagina can't take another bruising," Rochelle said, continuing to fire at more and more zombies.

"We could always do anal," redneck guy said, hopefully.

"In that case, you'd get Coach, Cletus," Nick said mockingly.

Nick and Rochelle giggled voraciously as the redneck dude shuddered, picturing Coach and his own inevitably busted sphincter. He now feared for his own ass quite literally. Not long after their giggle fit, the four realized that the horde had mostly dispersed. They each took time to reload and looked around the area.

"Well," Nick said, "that was easier than I though-"

"TANK!"

"Huh?" Nick looked at Coach, who had just yelled the phrase.

"Haha, I'm just fuckin' wit ya, whitey," Coach chuckled.

"Uh, Coach.." Redneck muttered.

A long, slimey tounge made its way around Coach's waist and up into his anal cavity.

"Aw hell NA-" Coach began to yell as he was dragged away.

Rochelle began to run after Coach, but Nick grabbed her and spun her around before she could get anywhere.

"TANK!" he yelled.

Sure enough, a Tank began making its way down the street.

_..._

Back on the bridge, Zoey, Francis and Louis sat down next to a car.

"So," Zoey said, "Now what?"

"I have no idea," Francis said irritably.

"This is usually the time Bill tells us one of his war stories and passes out a couple a' hits of LSD."

The three sat quietly.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" Zoey inquired.

"I could've sworn-"

"TANK!"

The three of them ran towards the cry in the distance.

_..._

"Shitshitshit," Nick cried.

He was being pounded into a bloody mess by the Tank. Rochelle had tried to decapitate it with her sniper rifle BUT WHO SERIOUSLY USES THAT GUN YA' DUMB CUNT. Redneck had made an attempt to save Coach, who was now being raped violently by a chain smoker. Unfortunately, he was being ripped apart by a Hunter. Redneck, now pantsless, Coach, now stripped of any and all innocence, Nick, near death, and Rochelle, stupid bitch, all began to lose hope.

Then there was the sound of shotgun tank's head was blown clean off. The hunter was knocked to the ground. The chain smoker was given a stern talking to and a slap on the wrist. Rochelle was beaten violently in what could've been confused as an act of sexism.

"Who..." Nick began, and looked up.

Before him stood his three heros, a prostitute, a biker, and a casually dressed black man.

"No need to thank us," the biker said. "By the way, you can call me Francis."

As Rochelle, Redneck, and Coach approached Nick and the three newcomers, they said nothing.

Zoey was the first to break the silence. "You know what we have to do."

The sun set over the whorizen. The seven banded together and made sweet, passionate, floppy love. The stench of the orgasm fended off the horde the entire evening, and all was well.

**Chapter 3**

Gabe Newell Jr. lay against the wall that was a part of his house against the exposed brick. His mother, Zoey, and father, Coach were out scavenging for food in the vast empty infinite ever-expanding never ending wilderness that was a zombie infested planet. He had not seen them in three days. Gabe gripped the shotgun tighter in his right hand, his left hand down his pants that were sticky with sweat and other fluids. It was a meaningless existence, and there was not much to do other than to please oneself.

As the survivors had discovered, the smell of orgasmic juices fend off zombie hoards. Since the scientific discovery had been made, the zombie population had decreased drastically.

"..."

Gordin Fleaman, Gabe's mute friend, approached from inside of the shelter of the house.

"Oh. Hey, Gordin." Gabe finished rubbing one off and reached out to shake Gordin's hand.

"..."

The hands met and the boys exchanged smiles.

Gordin was the son of Nick and Rochelle. He clearly inherited his smarts from his mother.

"Gordin," Gabe started, "do you ever wonder if there was ever more to existence than just shooting at the undead? Momma always told me things were so different when she was a kid."

Gabe stared off into the distance briefly, quietly suffering through his daily heart attack that was a result of his genetic obesity.

"..."

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

Just then, they heard a spitter vomiting in the distance.

"Hm," Gabe said, "that's odd. How could a spitter be this close? I've been jerking off for hours."

"..."

"You're right, Gordin. We should go investigate."

The young boys wandered out from the shelter of the house, and into the woods. Eventually, they came upon a clearing. Gabe stubbed his toe on one of the protruding branches and yelped with pain. Gordin slapped a hand across Gabe's mouth. Gabe instinctively tried to eat Gordin's hand before remembering it wasn't food.

Looking out from behind the trees, the boys were startled at what they found. What they found was rather startling.

It was surprising.

There in the clearing of the woods was a man walking a spitter on a leash. As the spitter finished taking a massive shit, it vomitted over the steaming pile of poo, as if to mark its territory, and then rolled around in it, the bile burning its rotting flesh.

The man watched, clearly bemused, and pulled out a pistol. He shot the spitter in the face.

Gabe gasped. Not because he was surprised, but because he had just trudged half a mile and needed the breath.

The man turned and stared at the boys.

"Hello, there!" he called, waving to the pair.

"Um.. hi?" Gabe responded.

"..." Gordin replied.

The man gripped his pistol tighter and aimed it at the boys.

"Wait what the-"

Gunfire.

**Chapter 4**

Behind the boys, a boomer exploded. Its legs fell to the ground.

"Sorry," the man said. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's.. it's fine," Gabe said, still exausted. "Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Bic Hawk," the man said, "I am the one responsible for the zombie apocolypse."

"What?!" Gabe gasped.

"..."

"Yes," Bic said, "it's a rather long story. A long story indeed. But to make such a long story a short story, I suppose I can just tell you that I was working in a laboratory in New Mexico where we had been experimenting with some foriegn materials. Well, I was having aromp session in one of the labs, and before my orgasm, I accidentally bumped into one of the beakers that contained a powerful virus.

"The virus went on and, to make such a long story a short story, affected the prostitute who was there with me. She bit off my dick, and well, I went into hiding."

"That's quite an interesting story," Gabe said.

"Yes yes. But I have returned now and, to make such a long story a short story, I have the cure to the zombie virus."

"Fascinating!" Gabe said, "so now there will be no more zombies?"

"Those two were some of the few remaining," Bic said. "Someone discovered that orgasms fend off zombies. It was part of a chain reaction that occurred during my original romp session in the lab."

"Wait till my mother hears about this!" Gabe said ecstatically. After jumping once, he had to stop because of his high blood pressure.

"Your, to make such a long story a short story, mother?" Bic said.

"Yes! Zoey, my mother!"

"That wouldn't happen to be Zoey Newell, would it?" Bic asked.

"Why, yes, it is!"

"Your mother is dead. To make such a long story a short story, I found her corpse in a ditch on the side of the road, and stole her wallet and ID. I also masturbated to her photo. Sorry," Bic said.

Gabe froze up. He turned to Gordin, who remained silent, and then back to Bic Hawk.

"Is my father dead too?"

"Is he black?"

"Yeah."

"He's not dead," Bic said. "But he did run away. Something about KFC, football, and his son being a huge disappointment."

Gabe looked down, discouraged. Who would give him his insulin now?

Bic walked over and put a hand on Gabe's shoulder. "To make such a long story a short story, I can be your father."

Gabe looked up, on the verge of tears.

"I'd like that."

Gordin finished rubbing one off, and stared at the new father/son pair admirably.

**EPILOGUE**

Together, Bic Hawk, Gabe Newell Jr., and Gordin Fleaman went on to cure the zombie disease. Thanks to science, they were also able to repopulate the earth.

Gordin Fleaman died as a result of HIV, which later become full blown aids, a few years later.

Gabe Newell Jr. went into the programming industry, and created a new gaming platform which he called Steam. In honor of his friend Gordin, he created a game called 'STDance Dance Revolution.' It was very unpopular.

Bic Hawk went on to become a male stripper.

As for Francis, Louis, Redneck, and Rochelle, you ask? Well they all died.

_**THE END**_


End file.
